


diamond in the rough cut

by idlehandz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/F, and emma's a barista, emma wears t-shirts regina wears blazers, i write tropes not tragedies, regina likes coffee, two dumbs fallin in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:12:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4999102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idlehandz/pseuds/idlehandz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Listen, Ms. Swan. I'm willing to let you have your name on this project, I'm willing to let you have credit for your little—production company or whatever it is you do, I am even willing to allow you to have a spot next to mine on the final cut. But let me make one thing clear, this is my project. My name will come first and I will be making the major decisions."</p>
<p>(emma and regina are brought together to work on a documentary, spoiler, they don't get along)</p>
            </blockquote>





	diamond in the rough cut

**Author's Note:**

> i don't own once upon a time and am not actually sure what it's like working at a starbucks

_Emma_

 

Emma first realized she might be feeling the sapphic thunder when she was in Mass at age 13 after coming to the conclusion that the only things worth worshipping in the church were Sister Astrid's legs.

She acted on that urge with a girl from school only a year later at her seventh home inside of a room she shared with her three foster sisters.

So when she was caught in her room about three years later with the next-door neighbor's daughter's legs wrapped around her head—she had the pretty solid excuse of, "I'm a lesbian," ready to go for foster parent set 10.

In return they had the line, "Get out of my house," set up.

Which led a 17-year-old Emma to live with her best friend, who was really her only friend, but semantics.

And now she's here. No more homes, no more getting traded out, no more social workers. It's a weird feeling.

"I still can't believe you're just now unpacking," Mary Margaret says, sitting on Emma's bed, legs crossed over one and another.

Emma purses her lips, eyes glued to an old photograph of her holding a giant plush teddy bear. Foster home number four. They were pretty nice until they kicked her out once they had arrived with the "happy" news that they were pregnant.

"Wanted to make sure this was a permanent thing," Emma says. Living with Mary Margaret and her parents was one thing, but it's different now. Just the two of them on their own.

She already knows what Mary Margaret is gonna say next. Some speech about how they're family and how much she loves Emma and then she might cry a little bit and Emma will have to walk over and hug her until she stops crying. It's pretty standard by now.

The first time it made Emma get a little teary eyed herself. The second time Emma could only smile in return. The third time Emma just sorta just brushed it off and then Mary-Margaret didn't speak to her for three days. And not just simply ignoring her but a full on silent treatment. From that point on Emma always developed a system to dealing with her.

The system was and still is to let her cry it out and nod a lot.

"Emma, you're my sister," she says. Emma coughs and sputters when Mary Margaret's grip tightens around her back. Mary Margaret is basically a koala bear meaning she's cute and tiny but also has a grip that could crush a man (she also runs really funny).

"And now even though I'm in college, we're still going to be together," Mary Margaret says. She backs away giving her the kind of smile Emma absolutely fucking hates. Pitying and sad and everything Emma wants nothing to do with.

"Hey, it's fine. I'll get the scholarship next year," Emma says, but it's not.

"Exactly," Mary Margaret chirps, chipper as ever. "And you know, I'm sorry if this is me being selfish, but I'm happy that you got kicked out all those years ago. Because like I said, you are my family. You always will be."

Emma offers up a weak smile in return. She actually kinda liked the Morgan's. They were strict, but she had her own room, and they seemed to care about her. It was one of the longer homes she'd stayed in. Too bad they were also religious assholes.

Not that it's been bad living with Mary Margaret, or will be bad—but now she has to pay rent, pay for food, pay for her gas, and pay for her cell phone bills. Technically, she doesn't have to pay for rent or food because Mary Margaret's parents offered to pay for the entire apartment and didn't mind sending Mary Margaret a little extra cash a month for food, but in typical Emma fashion she refused the hand out because of her big, dumb pride.

Being a barista with a few freelance gigs on the side only gets you so much money.

"Yeah," Emma says. She chews on her thumb before repeating, "Yeah…" Emma laughs then. "The only bad thing is that our cycles match up. You pmsing is anything but a picnic."

"I am not that bad!"

"Last month you threw a hair straightener at me because I took a bite of your KitKat." Emma touches the back of her head where the thing hit. She swears the bump is still there.

"I was saving it."

"You had another one and the damn iron was still hot! I don't even know what hair you straighten!"

Mary Margaret pushes her short, black hair back, and Emma snorts when it goes back perfectly in place. "My bangs frizz."

"Uh huh." Emma walks back over to her boxes. "You gonna sit in here all night and watch me pack? Don't you have church or something?"

"Um…yeah," Mary Margaret says, and Emma drops the pair of jeans she'd been holding in her hands. She knows that voice, it's the _I did something you're not gonna like voice_ ; the same voice Emma got when she was notified that she was going to a party with some jock just so Mary Margaret wouldn't have to go out with Frank Whale alone.

Emma whips her head around. "What did you do?"

"Well, you see, I was just about to tell you—"

"Mary Margaret."

"Itoldmypriestyou'dattendthesermontonightandwouldmeetwithhimregardingachuchproject."

_"What?"_

"I told my priest that you would come with me tonight, but it's only because the church is working on this big, like, project thing and I know that you do freelance and want to work in film and are skilled with that sorta stuff, so I just told him about you and he wants to meet you now because the church is doing, like, this big project so you—you have to come with me to the sermon tonight to talk to the priest—"

"I got it!" Emma snaps, and then takes a breath along with Mary Margaret to soak in the rounded whirlwind of information. It clicks a second later.

The thing is, Emma hates church. She doesn't believe in God, she's gay, and she's already done the whole sex before marriage thing. _"You what?"_ Emma asks, voice edging dangerously.

"I told my priest that you would—"

"Mary Margaret if you say that again I'm going to need to find another roommate because my current one will be dead. Now why in the hell would you tell your priest that?"

Mary Margaret bites her lip, then takes in a long-winded sigh. "Because I honestly think it would be good for you." Emma opens her mouth but clamps it shut when Mary Margaret cuts her off. "And before you ask why, let me explain. This is going to be a huge project and could possibly get a lot of recognition. It could get you contacts and you could get something really solid for your demo reel. Plus, he's paying. A lot."

Emma purses her lips. She's been saving up for months to get newer equipment. And if what Mary Margaret is saying is true, this could be the something that gives her a real chance at getting into NYU's BA film program with a full ride.

Emma sighs and closes her eyes. "Fine. What's the gig for?"

"Um…well, that's the thing—I er, don't really know yet."

Emma breathes in deep through her nose. "Then how do you know he's paying?" Emma says, trying her hardest to keep her voice even.

"That's the thing! He told us, but he's not discussing details until the meeting right after the sermon, which is tonight."

Another sigh. "Fine," Emma says, "but on one condition."

"Name it."

"You do my laundry for a week."

Mary Margaret gasps. "For offering you an opportunity like this?" She begins to ramble and Emma watches with a slow, crooked smile. Mary Margaret only rambles when she wants something, and for some reason, she wants Emma to go to this meeting.

"Two weeks," Emma says, cutting into her speech about important values in life and improving one's self.

"Nine days," Mary Margaret replies quickly.

"Two and a half weeks."

With a playful glare, Mary Margaret says, "Fine. Deal…but be ready in an hour."

*

Church? Still not Emma's thing. Sure the church is nice. It's big as hell—or heaven, whatever. The people seem pretty relaxed and the pews are comfortable. But it's also just as boring as every other church Emma has been dragged to in the past.

Mary Margaret has to tap her shoulder five times to stop Emma from dozing off while the priest drones on about Jesus parting the sea or something like that.

Emma's only emotion is relief when she's finally brought up to the priest, an old, bald guy who could easily be confused with the pope. A few people stand around him.

Emma can't help but notice the brunette planted right in front of him, smiling and going on and on about how excited she is about the project. She sounds like a total schmoozer but at the same time she's really hot.

"Mary Margaret," he says in a voice that resembles a mall Santa Clause. "It's nice to see you. I take it this is the friend you wanted to introduce me to?"

The girl who he'd just been talking to looks at Emma, eyes narrowed, then she gives Mary Margaret a look that could kill a horse—or some other large, sturdy animal.

Mary Margaret doesn't notice and nods eagerly to Santa priest. "Yes. Meet my friend, Emma. She's been working with directing and video coordination for years now."

Santa priest smiles wide, he's cheeks dimpling out. "Nice to meet you, Emma." He offers her his hand and she gives it a strong, but not too strong shake. "We'd love to have you working on the project."

"Nice to meet you too, Sir. But I have a question…"

"Ah," Santa priest says. "You're wondering what the project is."

Emma nods; looking around to see if anyone else knows just what the hell (heck, what the heck) this guy is planning on doing. Venom-eyed girl smirks.

"Yes. I see there are quite a bit of you gathered here who would like to help," he says, looking around. Following his eyes Emma spots none other than David Nolan, then looks at Mary Margaret, rolling her eyes.

"Seriously, dude?" Emma whispers. She's been in love with the guy since, like, forever as far as Emma knows. Apparently there was some nasty rumor Mary Margaret's freshman year of high school that he cheated on her with his now ex-girlfriend.

During Emma's first year at the school with Mary Margaret, she was still moony-eyed over the guy. He was nice and all, but at the same time seemed to try and distance himself from her. Eventually, Mary Margaret called a quits on him.

Or at least Emma thought she did.

"What?" Mary Margaret says, acting oblivious even though her cheeks are bright red.

"The church has decided to do a fundraiser for the homeless youth by making an awareness documentary. I will have a budget laid out for making it and when it's finished we will have airings, inviting people by selling tickets. We will also sell DVD's and other merchandise at these airings. All proceeds will go to the shelters, obviously," Santa priest says.

"This is going to be huge and take a lot of time. It's also going to need to be good to get people interested," he says. "So I'm going to need someone to lead the project, someone who has experience in these things and will be able to plan this out. I haven't made my decision of who that will be yet, but I can say that the church will compensate them for their time.

"Now, if you are interested in applying for the position of the person who is essentially going to produce and direct this, email me and write your name down on this list." He sets a sheet of paper down on the table in front of him. "If you are just here to volunteer, sign the sheet up front."

Everyone begins to disperse and walk to the front except Emma, Mary Margaret and venom-eyed girl.

"You gonna sign or what?" Mary Margaret says as venom-eyed girl signs the sheet and walks away.

Emma stares at the sheet for a moment, reads the delicate handwriting that spells out the name Regina Mills.

"Yeah," Emma says, then scribbles her name on the paper.

*

"So, like…who was that girl anyways?" Emma asks. She's been lying on the couch for an hour, feet on Mary Margaret's lap while watching some twenty/twenty special. Usually, Emma eats that shit up but now all she can think about is venom-eyed girl or Regina. It sounds like the kinda name she would have, just stuck-up enough.

"Who?"

"Regina Mills."

Mary Margaret looks at her, face contorting like she just drank orange juice after brushing her teeth. "Oh…her. Remember when I told you about that thing that spread with David and I before you moved here?"

"Yeah."

"She's the one who spread it."

Emma glances up, widening her eyes. "Ouch.

"Yeah. Not someone you want to hang around much."

Emma thinks back to church. Black hair that cascaded just to her shoulders framed perfectly around her face. Oh, and her face, like, wow. What a face. "She can't be that bad," Emma says. She's not thinking with her brain, something she hopes Mary Margaret won't notice.

"Trust me when I say, you're lucky you missed out on her reign. She used to own our old school, but she was three years ahead of us. She goes to NYU now; luckily our majors are nothing alike."

"What's she do? Something in production? She was the only other person to sign that paper."

Mary Margaret shakes her head. "No. Not exactly. I think she wants to be a broadcast journalist or something."

"Oh. So like twenty/twenty."

Mary Margaret looks up at the TV, placing her book by Emma's feet. "Yeah, I guess."

"Mary Margaret," Emma says, leaning up and pausing the TV.

"Yeah?"

"Did you make me sign up for this so you could be around David, but like, have a reason for being around him?"

Mary Margaret looks at her book again. "I really need to finish this chapter tonight, Emma," she says.

Emma rolls her eyes, mutters, "whatever," and plays the TV again.

*

"Grande peppermint latte, extra whip cream with a shot of espresso," Emma shouts out to Ruby, smiling at the guy in front of her. "Name?"

"Mark."

"For Mark!"

He smiles, leaves a tip and walks away only to reveal a familiar pinched up face looking down at her phone. "Iced, Half-Caff, Ristretto, Venti, 4-Pump, Sugar-Free, Cinnamon, Dolce Soy Skinny Latte," Regina says. She doesn't look up.

"Hey," Emma replies, palms leaning against the counter. "You're Regina. You were at the church thing for the documentary. Nice to actually meet you."

She looks up; face expressionless. Emma holds her smile and looks directly into brown eyes.

"I'm Emma. Emma Swan," Emma says when Regina continues to just like, stare. It's kind of creepy but at the same time Emma's never been the type to squirm at a little bit of uncomfortable eye contact. Maybe she got that trait from foster family 5, the weird Mormons who also set her a year behind in school due to inept homeschooling.

"Hello, Ms. Swan. I'll have an iced, Half-Caff, Ristretto, Venti, 4-Pump, Sugar-Free, Cinnamon, Dolce Soy Skinny Latte."

Emma frowns, sags her shoulders a bit and thinks of a few new names for Regina, namely two rhyming with itch and bunt. "Iced, Half-Caff, Ristretto, Venti, 4-Pump, Sugar-Free, Cinnamon, Dolce Soy Skinny Latte," Emma says, and then, whispering to Ruby, "For Virginia."

"Whatever you say, weirdo," Ruby says, watching Regina walk to the waiting counter.

Emma snickers when Regina gets her cup and frowns, scrunching up her nose and rolling her eyes. It's something she takes comfort in when customers are rude, misspelling names that is.

Once Regina leaves, Ruby walks back over. "Why'd you asked me to misspell Regina's name?"

Emma's eyes widen, but she wipes the surprise off of her face in order to greet the next customer. "Gingerbread frappe, venti with whipped cream for Aria," Emma says. "And how'd you know her name?"

"She comes by here all the time. Usually the shift before yours, though. Plus she used to go to our old high school, obviously before you were there. Real bitch."

"Yeah," Emma says, and then, "Chocolate chip scone and plain, tall coffee for Sabrina." Emma glances over at Ruby as she works the whipped cream. "I'm starting to realize that. Mary Margaret told me what happened the year before I came."

"Uh huh," Ruby says, turns away and sets a coffee on the waiting table. "Have a nice day! It was a nightmare. Mary Margaret cried for, like, weeks. Then went into this super weird Taylor Swift phase, but not like…bad blood Taylor Swift. Old school Taylor Swift."

"Mocha Frap, tall for Courtney," Emma says. "I can imagine."

"Not the kind of girl you're gonna win over with a smile, Emma."

Emma snaps her head away from Courtney who walks over to the waiting table. "What?"

"I saw that—have a nice day!—flirting back there. Or that attempted flirting." Ruby clears her throat. "I'm Emma. Emma Swan," Ruby says, her voice deep from her shit impersonation. "Cool it there, James Bond."

"I was not—non-fat soy latte, grande for Julia—flirting! I met her the other day and we might be involved in a project together. It's called being polite, Rubes."

"Mmhmm, whatever you say, Casanova."

*

"And then she just says; iced, Half-Caff, Ristretto, Venti, 4-Pump, Sugar-Free, Cinnamon, Dolce Soy Skinny Latte," Emma says. She's been pacing around the apartment ever since she got home, rehashing the story. It's not that she cares what Regina thinks about her; it's just that…that—that she's a bitch.

"Doesn't surprise me." Mary Margaret leans into the coach, mouth curled around the lip of her coffee mug. "Emma stop pacing you're getting all red-faced."

"My face is not red," Emma says despite the heat gathering from her chest. "And how can someone be that fucking rude? Like? I could spit in your coffee for all you know!"

"Let me guess, you told Ruby to mispronounce her name instead."

Emma looks down at the ground. "Well, yeah—but, man, you should have seen the look on her face.

"Was it something like this?" Mary Margaret pinches her face together and frowns while squinting her eyes. Emma looks at her saying nothing, and Mary Margaret squints even harder.

"Um, no. But I'll be sure to analyze Regina if I ever see her constipated."

"Well, I would get used to making notes with Regina pretty soon," Mary Margaret says. She's looking at her computer and Emma walks closer to see what the hell she's talking about.

"Huh?"

"The screen, Emma. The screen."

Emma leans over to see an email sent by Santa priest.

I've looked over all the volunteers and it looks like even though we'll have a lot of work on our hands, we have the right group that will easily succeed.

As for who will be leading the team, I'm going to have both Regina Mills and Emma Swan work together to make the best possible outcome.

I believe we will be successful in our mission with our lord and—

Emma stops reading, turns to face Mary-Margaret. "What. The. Fuck."

*

_Regina_

 

Regina isn't a fortune teller, but everyone who knows her knows that Regina knows exactly how her life is going to turn out. She makes sure of it. And how it will turn out is with her on her own show dealing with hard-hitting topics as a broadcast journalist.

As far as Regina is concerned, everyone she meets is just a stepping-stone. A latter to move up and up and up until eventually she's got millions of follower on twitter, her own show on a network that isn't Fox, and an engagement with a wedding people are going to want to see placed on television. Not to mention a dress that cost more than most people make in a year.

It's all very well planned and has been since she was ten. She had been at her friend Kathryn's house watching some MTV news special and decided that she could do the same thing ten times better with more accuracy and better hair.

From that point on, the news became something of an obsession. Who needs horror films and television shows when you can watch the same amount of drama happening to real people in detailed explanation without fake blood splatter.

And journalist, well, they control the world. Anderson Cooper could make Paris Hilton look like a God and Albert Einstein seem like an insane terrorist if he presented the facts a certain way.

Journalism is the fourth estate. It holds just as much weight as any branch of government and with a much larger jurisdiction, i.e., the world.

And who doesn't want to rule the world?

So, yes, Regina treats people the same way she would treat a stepping latter. Sometimes with respect and courtesy, sometimes not; but they will always be disregarded in the end. Unless of course said person is one of the few people Regina actually considers a friend (and she doesn't have many of those).

Either way, Emma Swan does not fit in Regina's step latter mold—and certainly isn't someone she'd ever consider a friend.

"She was wearing a bright, red jacket, Kathryn. A bright, red jacket to church."

"You've mentioned it one or two thousand times," Kathryn says, yawning and lying flat on her back on top of Regina's bed, phone hovering above her face.

Regina's been ranting about Emma for more than a few minutes because Emma Swan is now her "colleague." Not her upper, not her lower, but an equal. And as far as Regina is concerned Emma Swan is anything but her equal.

Regina has only said two sentences to her, and yet, Emma has already managed to piss her off.

"Virginia," Regina spits out. She's sitting on the office chair at her desk, lips pursed while she stares at a bored Kathryn. "Who the hell does she think she is?"

"Someone you're going to have to get used to working with, apparently."

"Not if I can help it," Regina says. She bites down on her lower lip and goes through her contacts, stops on where "idiot" is listed. Emma's number was in the email and through her fit of rage she managed to get it into her phone, although not under the name Father Ricardo might like.

_Meet me at the Starbucks on 7th, noon tomorrow._

Regina has become somewhat of a master at controlling people. It's all about making the rules first. Commanding people without telling them. Subtle little things.

_First I want you to tell me who the hell this is and how do you know where I work_ , comes Emma's reply.

Regina presses her hand against her temple and lets out a long, dramatic sigh. It figures she wouldn't have already programmed Regina's number into her phone.

_Regina._

She makes sure to put a period after her name. It adds an uncomfortable formality that Regina needs to stay in place if she's going to run this project.

When Emma replies with, _Um…oh, hi. I'm kinda doing something at that time. Can we shoot for two?_

Regina doesn't bother replying. If Emma's stupid enough not to come to the meeting, then Regina will just tell Father Ricardo that Emma isn't taking the job seriously enough and get her fired.

It's a win/win.

"And now I have a meeting with her tomorrow," Regina says. She places her phone down with a loud thud and clucks her tongue. "Hopefully she's not as dumb as she looks."

"Don't you think you're being a little harsh?" Kathryn asks.

"This was my idea. I was the one who told Father Ricardo about it so I would lead the project. So I would have something for my reel when I apply for a position after college." Regina feels her face getting hot and red and she clenches her fist together, biting on the inside of her lip. Fucking Emma Swan and fucking Mary Margaret who has ruined everything since Regina's senior year of high school.

Kathryn looks up and gives a loud snort. "As if your mother's connections aren't going to get you any of job of your choice once that degree lands in your hands."

Regina swirls around in her chair, facing away from Kathryn and looking at the blank computer screen ahead. "That's not the point, " she says. "The point is, this was supposed to be mine. My project, my committee, my credit."

"Well…" Kathryn says, "you always have had trouble sharing."

Regina smiles. "Exactly."

*

Regina arrives five minutes late to the meeting. Not because she's actually late, but because she likes watching Emma watch the door and look up like a confused squirrel every time it opens.

She sits at one of the tables right outside the door peering up from a newspaper.

And now she'll be fashionably late, which contrary to popular belief, doesn't actually have anything to do with fashion. It's about control. The ability to arrive late without consequence or embarrassment is something someone only does if they are in charge; a point Regina wants to make perfectly clear.  
She steps in, face neutral, and doesn't actually look at Emma until they're sitting across from each other.

Emma gives her a tight, uneasy smile and says nothing.

"Hello, Ms. Swan. I'm Regina—I just wanted to reiterate since you clearly have a problem with remembering names." Regina watches a scarlet blush shade Emma's normally pale cheeks.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. And you can just call me Emma."

"Interesting," Regina says. She doesn't sound interested. "I'll remember that if I remember to care, Ms. Swan. Now, what are your strengths?"

Emma opens her mouth, closes it and then opens it again.

"Well, I can see how that might be difficult for you. Why don't you think about it while I get something to drink," Regina says. She walks towards the line with a smile planted on her red lips.

Ten minutes later she comes back with a large and purposely complicated order (which doesn't taste that good but making Emma wait longer was the general idea).

Emma sits up when Regina comes to face her.

"Listen," she starts off, face beet red and eyebrows pinched together.

Regina holds a hand up. "No, you listen, Ms. Swan. I'm willing to let you have your name on this project, I'm willing to let you have credit for your little—production company or whatever it is you do, I am even willing to allow you to have a spot next to mine on the final cut. But let me make one thing clear, this is my project. My name will come first and I will be making the major decisions."

Emma looks like she's going to explode which causes Regina pause because if anything she was expecting fear.

"Lady, I don't know where the hell you came from and I don't really care; but as far as I'm concerned Santa—I mean, Father Ricardo left us both in charge of this project. Now I'm betting I have a lot more experience with film editing and film in general than you do with your little journalism degree or whatever, and I plan on being useful. Like it or not, we're working together."

Regina raises her eyebrows, cocks her head to the side, and smiles at Emma for the first time since their meeting. It's not a good smile. Her teeth meld into an early moon sliver, eyes crinkling. "Alright, Ms. Swan," she says. "We'll play it your way for now. But if you get in my way, make no mistake, I will destroy you."

Emma gives Regina the same smile back and a thick tension begins to fizzle between them. "Sister," Emma says, "I'd like to see you try."

They stare at each other, but Regina can feel other eyes on her as well. Nearby patrons wondering if they're going to pounce on each other like fighting cats. Regina clears her throat and straightens her back out so that it's perfectly aligned with the chair.

"Contacts," she says. "I'm assuming you'll have more than I do, given the topic."

"Homeless youth?" Emma says. She frowns, and Regina continues to stare expectantly. With a reluctant sigh, Emma nods. "Yeah. I have a few."

"Excellent. Let them know what's going on and report back to me Tuesday, same place, same time," Regina stands up and brushes off her dress, as if just being around Emma Swan has caused her clothes to dirty.

"I can't," Emma says easily, leaning back in her chair. "I have a shift."

Regina closes her eyes and grits her teeth together. "Fine. When do you get off?"

"Two."

"Class schedule?" Regina asks before choosing another time to meet.

Emma blinks once, twice, three times. "I don't go to school."

Regina shakes her head and sighs. "Well I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by that," Regina says, and before Emma has the chance to reply she cuts in with, "Four o' clock, Tuesday."

"Make it five," Emma says. A smirk teases at her lips. Regina doesn't like that, doesn't like that Emma is trying to take back control.

"Ms. Swan you will be here at four, or else."

Emma says nothing and Regina doesn't have the time to talk anymore. Or, she does have the time but doesn't want Emma to know she has the time because Emma Swan is not worth her time. Regina huffs in, grabs her coffee, and leaves without uttering another word.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i wouldn't mind any comments bc i currently don't have a beta for this so anything you could say would be great. talk to me at reginasblazers.tumblr.com if you wanna


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